


spiderwebs

by triskadancer



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), F/F, Pre-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triskadancer/pseuds/triskadancer
Summary: mukuro has always been willing to hurt, if it keeps Junko safe. whether it's herself or others.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko/Ikusaba Mukuro
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	spiderwebs

_(mukuro most remembers their mother's hands. long and slender fingers, moving like a lazy spider, curling dangerously under her chin. sharp nails layered with professional clear polish. obsessively cleaned and trimmed and filed, each cuticle aggressively forced back every night with the bitter knowledge that they would never stay perfect. they way they'd tap tap tap when she was irritated, counting out the seconds as they dragged on in uneasy silence. the sting of a palm against her cheek, the bite of claws into her skin, the ironclad grip locked around her arm, her shoulder, her throat.)_

\---

when they were very, very young, mukuro thinks their mother loved them.

or, at least, she loved Junko. mukuro knows she’s always been a burden. the unwanted extra child. her name was what she surely should have been. ‘corpse.’ she learned to take care of herself and not bother anyone else very early on. mother was pleased with Junko, at first. she made a very pretty doll. but she couldn’t play the part perfectly, she needed love and attention, and actually caring for a child was a chore. mukuro did her best to take care of her instead, and Junko had clung to her instantly. twins are always close, they say, but being affection-starved certainly doesn’t help.

she refused to sleep in a separate bed when mother had tried to introduce the concept, sneaking into mukuro’s no matter how many times she was deterred. she slept better, tucked under mukuro’s arm, and mukuro was proud to be able to help her little sister. it was only when mother caught them kissing, years later, that it became dangerous. even then, mukuro was blamed for the whole thing, and she didn’t say a word in her own defense. better her than Junko, after all.

\---

she doesn't flinch when Junko wraps the gauze around her arm. she's gentle, when she's patching up mukuro's injuries. gentle and precise. they've done this before. it's a practiced routine. and she smiles, when she looks up and catches mukuro's eyes. of course she does. she always smiles (tries to, has to, always has to smilesmilesmile) because then it's not so bad. it's not so bad if she can still joke and grin, it's not serious, they're fine. and to her credit, it works, a little. it does reassure mukuro. not for herself (this is nothing, she's had worse, and everything is faraway and muted so it hardly hurts at all) but for Junko, because Junko can still smile. Junko's okay. Junko didn't get hurt. it's only mukuro. and that's fine, isn't it, she's used to it. she can handle it. and it's a big sister's job to protect her little sister, even if the difference between them is only moments. even if it hurts.

especially when it hurts. she doesn't want Junko hurt.

even if she’s worthless, she can keep Junko safe from her. she can protect her. because Junko is the one that matters. and it doesn’t happen very often-- Junko tries so hard to make mother happy. she’s so _smart;_ she’s learned to anticipate her moods, tell her whatever she wants to hear. it’s rare for violence to be aimed at Junko. so it’s not so bad. it takes a moment, everything is heavy and slow and she's a little dizzy-not-quite-there, but she manages a smile for Junko, too. because they're okay. right?

(and even if they’re not okay, maybe they deserve it.)

\---

she leaves without warning. she can’t bear to mention it-- even the thought of Junko’s reaction is enough to make mukuro recoil and resist. she would be _so upset_ \-- she will be, will be, it’s going to happen whether mukuro sees it or not and she _knows_ that-- and mukuro can’t handle that. but she has to go.

it’s getting worse.

that sick white-hot rage is getting worse and worse every day. she’s so tense it feels like she’ll just bare her teeth and _snarl_ if she tries to speak and she so very badly wants to _hurt something_ and she can’t, she can’t, she can’t do that.

she’d had a knife in her hands before she even realized it, sharp slender blade from the kitchen block, and it took her until she’d left the room to come back to herself. and even then, even when she was able to think again, she had to reason herself out of it. she can’t hurt her. even if she wants to. she can’t just give in to the anger, she wouldn’t be able to get away with it, and they wouldn’t be able to survive-- it would ruin Junko’s life, forever, and that would defeat the entire purpose.

and she can’t kill herself. Junko would be the only one to go looking for her. Junko would be the one to _find_ her. mukuro could never ever do that to her.

so she has to leave, because it’s the only way they’ll all survive. she tells herself Junko will be all right-- she’s always been mother’s favorite, even if she’d gotten crueler to her over time. maybe things will be easier without mukuro there. she’s always been a burden. and of course it’ll hurt, of _course_ , but Junko’s always been better at shaking it off, hasn’t she? she’ll have a better life.

it’s easier than it should be to fall behind and dash out of sight. the crowd’s too big for anyone to see her if she ducks low. and it's much easier than it should be to convince the Fenrir mercenaries to take her on. skinny little girl that she is, she shouldn’t be able to take a hit like that, she shouldn’t be able to fight back so viciously, she shouldn’t know how to handle guns and knives like she’s practiced with them, she shouldn’t be able to learn to kill so smoothly.

but she does.

and finally, finally, it's so _easy_ to function. she doesn’t have to do anything else at all. follow orders. do as she’s told. that’s so deeply ingrained she doesn’t have to think, and that’s the best part. turn off her thoughts and mute everything to a low background static. move like a machine, empty and automatic. she doesn’t care about _anything_ like this. a human is just another animal. nothing special. death is just part of life. the world is meaningless brutality and nothing matters. just do as you’re told.

sometimes she thinks about Junko, and the ache in her chest is so sharp and sudden it feels like she can’t _breathe_ , but she’s gotten very good at forcing herself back into that cold empty place and sinking into her routine. she’ll come back eventually. she’s kept everything, all her paychecks tucked away safely in foreign bank accounts, so much money she has nothing to do with but save. for when she can go home and take care of Junko, if only Junko can forgive her. and she’ll understand then, why mukuro had to leave. right?

\---

at first, it seems like maybe mukuro was right. she’s too stupid to connect the dots right away. because of course she’d worried about Junko, but she’d thought it would work out-- and it seems like it has. she has a career now, too. a model. all the attention Junko deserves. she doesn’t need anyone anymore, and mukuro is so relieved. Junko’s okay. Junko’s safe.

it’s not until later in the evening that she starts to get really worried. Junko’s seemed a little off, even through her smiles, but she figures that it must’ve been just seeing her again-- she expected Junko to have mixed feelings, even if she hoped the main one would be happiness. she can tell Junko is keeping her at arms’ length at first, and that makes sense, when she’s been gone so long. but the jokes she’s making are a little too dark, her smiles a little too sharp. mukuro’s anxious for her before she can even pinpoint exactly why. (and that’s awful, isn’t it, that she’s been gone for so long that she can’t read Junko like she used to.)

mukuro is so unforgivably stupid.

she doesn't ask _how_ Junko managed to escape. she doesn't ask how she made her connections in the modeling industry without their mother's influence. she doesn't ask how Junko's rise to fame was so unbelievably fast.

she sees the marks back at the hotel room when Junko changes, even more immediate and frightening than how starkly her ribs show under her skin. bruises. the thought of someone hurting her-- someone _hurt Junko,_ and the soft muted noise in her brain comes rushing back all at once, and the one stupid, stunned, blurted question she does finally manage to ask ( _Junko-chan, what happened??_ ) is what finally opens the floodgates.

she understands, when Junko devolves into screaming accusations. she understands when Junko tries to hit her, throwing all her fury behind it (but she’s so sickly thin and mukuro is so much stronger now that it hardly registers, and that makes it _worse._ ) she understands, when Junko is finally curled in her arms and wheezing-laughing-sobbing into her chest and shaking so badly that mukuro feels like she has to hold her together. it’s been a long time since she felt the anger, but it’s back like it never left, simmering under her skin. it helps drown out the guilt, just a little.

because of course their mother got _worse_ without her preferred target. and Junko was _alone._ so of course she'd had to leave, and there were only so many things a young girl could do to survive on her own. 

(and mukuro can feel herself shaking, too, feel that familiar heat and noise and _rage_ and she'd have killed _all of them_ with her bare hands that very night if she could have left Junko alone for even a second.)

and she understands, when Junko finally starts whispering her plans into her ear. Junko laughs, when mukuro whispers her apologies and promises, sharp harsh barks that break halfway and melt into sobs again, and mukuro would do _anything_ to fix it. anything, anything, _anything_ for her. 

people really are just _animals._

\---

it takes very little to track down Junko’s first “manager.”

she brings Junko his teeth, and shows her how to wire an IED.

two days later, they plant it under his partner’s car, parked outside the club in his usual spot. the extra ‘shrapnel’ makes sure he’s shredded like cheap pork. Junko laughs at the blaze just like she did when they were children watching fireworks, and mukuro feels like maybe she might be able to help her after all.

\---

she doesn't flinch when Junko's nails dig into her arm. a little too tightly, a little too sharp, but mukuro is used to it. it doesn't really hurt. not this time. Junko just wants her attention, catlike and inquisitive, so mukuro dutifully glances her way. she's so bright it's almost painful, wide blue eyes and gleaming grin, all smiles - so mukuro smiles back automatically as she listens.

she's talking fast, very fast, and gesturing wildly as she goes, a symphony of chatter. mukuro can hardly keep up. it's difficult to parse, her head is in that fuzzy quiet-calm-grey place, she has to ask for explanation and junko laughs, sharp and loud, _don't be stupid, muku-nee._ she deserves it. a good sister would be listening more attentively. pay attention to Junko-chan, like always, like always-- she smudges the blood on her hands absently, just catching herself before she wipes it on her skirt. Junko gave her this. she can't stain it.

\---

it’s different than when they were kids, curious and shy. Junko’s always been needy, always wanted attention, but she _demands_ it now, pinning her down and digging her nails into mukuro’s shoulders and stealing all her breath away with desperate biting kisses. she grabs mukuro’s hand, drags it between her legs, hisses commands that mukuro follows without a second’s hesitation.

this is what she’s good at. this is the one thing she can manage to care about, no matter how much she loses herself. nothing matters but Junko. she doesn’t need to think about anything but making Junko happy.

and she thinks, maybe, that she does.

she still calls mukuro a pervert, and laughs at her humiliated blush-- but she still crawls into mukuro’s bed at night, like she always has. even though she complains about mukuro’s muscle tone, the way she strokes down her chest and splays her fingers along mukuro’s stomach makes her breath catch in her throat. even if she calls her stupid, useless, disappointing-- listening to her whine and mewl while she rocks her hips into her hand makes mukuro’s heart lift effortlessly, makes her dizzy with pride and shame and adoration so strong that there’s no room in her head for anything else. and that’s enough, for her. that’s all she needs. all she deserves. 

she’s rougher with her, now.

but it's fine when Junko hurts her, she can handle it. she's used to it. she is so very, very used to it by now. and she gladly offers herself up for Junko, to let her vent that sickly-hot fury at mukuro instead of herself. a willing and eager sacrifice, just like she's always been. if she wanted to rip bloody lines into her flesh, shatter every bone in her body, tear out her heart and eat it-- mukuro would give her anything and everything she ever wanted. 

she can take it. she can handle it. it hardly hurts at all anymore. no marks, as always; not ones anyone can see, anyway. it's a practiced routine. she admires the little half-circle cuts dully, winding the bandage around her upper arm. they’ll heal quickly, no scars. the bloody trail ends just where the uniform sleeve would. Junko is always so precise.

she wonders, for a moment, when exactly Junko grew out her nails.

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all it's been a hell of a few years, huh? how about that dr3 anime validating all the sad shit I've ever said about these fucked up kids? wild. I still love these trainwreck twins and I still have so much more to write about them. thanks for checking in after all this time.  
> I'm at triskadancer.tumblr.com as always.


End file.
